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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Lords of the North ==
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| − | The Underworld has claimed much of the North. The Wyld, even more. Many courts have been broken by the advance of the unnatural within Creation, leaving vacant jobs and broken chains on the North. The Seven Sages were originally created as a counter to it. They are not a formal court, although they do posses the heavenly right to meet and operate. Gideon managed their places as ‘overseers’ – The Seven exist primarily to prevent its members from losing further power, heaven to lose further land, the North from unraveling as it so threatens.
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| − | The Sages hold a communal sanctum, The Theather of Falling Dusk, Where Stars and Sky Fall to Earth – A great mountain that seems made of black diamond, covered with cristalized ice that slides out of most of the diamond for some reason, but stays in parts... like nightfall woven into a mountain, when one sees at the distance. The peak is open, ten different spikes reaching for the sky, as or a stadium, a valley that blurs the lines of sanctum and reality – basically the inside is too much of a sanctum to even be considered to exist in a material state anymore. It is also covered in fog from below so only those with methods of aerial transportation or able from make a harsh pilgrimage to the top against cold and air elementals can get to it – a nessessary precaution due to the Sages’ many enemies.
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| − | The Mount itself is named simply Mount Dusk, but its name blurs with that of the Seven Sages’ palace, stretching almost a mile high, a tall spire which branches like a tree into seven sub-spires. Dark as night, shimmering violet and windows as stars, it stands where no mortal can see, a gathering of godlings and the occasional dragon.
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| − | From the Mount flow two rivers – Krysta and Mystra, who flow like liquid crystal... <i>being</i> liquid crystals, to two mounts miles away, where they disappear before coming to the River of Tears. The people bordering it know the proper rites to pick the crystals on the full moon so they are proper crystals, which move the economy around, and not just strangely colored water which dries as stains on the earth. In theory they become crystal veins in the mounts they flow to, but none go in them and come out... except the high priests of Falling Dusk, and they are geased to never speak of it.
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| − | <b>Scythe of Winter</b> is the goddess of the First Blizzard, the patron of famine, cold and death brought by the air of Resplendent Air and Water. One of the least liked goddesses of the North, she is equally distant from even the Violet Bier of Sorrows, although even now she holds a powerful pull in it. She appears as a petite woman... flesh too fine to be too old, hair and eyes like ice, too distant to be young, clad in a dress the color of a blizzard. The dress has many flowers in it, colored ice-blue... and as even one of their petals fall to the ground, it fills it with a fine coat of ice for many yards, burning away all vegetation. She is beautiful... as the snow falling over a wounded man, dulling his pain and freezing him to death is. She has never been seen laughing, and does not smile even when doing her work, her child-like face impassive... but she has been known to smile on occasion, on certain frozen beauties... and her smile is terrible to behold.Her touch brings famine and cold that not even a hearth can warm, and she carries an Ice Scythe, created in the deepest north from the very frozen essence of the seasons of Air and Water.. the cold of the north, from the tears of sorrow for those cut down by it. One that is cut by the Scythe will never feel warmth again, even before a white-hot hearth, and always hunger, even when filled – the touch of winter will always be with him.<br><br>Despite her disposition, Scythe of Winter never lacks in prayers – There who would pray for their opressor to stop instead of praying for others to help. And rarely, she even answers those prayers, raising children dead from the famine, protecting few from the cold. With no pattern that can be seen aside from keeping her prayers coming even as she scythes thousands more.. this grim goddess is one of the staunchest supporters of the Seven Sages and one of its founding members – only her continued absence and the fear she inspires even on her peers keeps her from having a leading position within them, but although she is almost never around them, the court makes no great decision without waiting for her word. She has a sanctum in the Far North, close to Crystal, but rides south in the seasons of Air and Water, riding a great saber-toothed cat, always simple flesh over bone, completely famished, who is never sated and dies by the end of Winter, to oversee her job and appear before men... <br><br>
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| − | <b>Gideon Everclear</b> is a god of clouds and the sky, making him powerful and influential in Windia, Hanslanti, and the Bureau of Seasons. While not their patron deity, many Windians turn to Gideon, who welcomes his 'Children of the Clouds' with open arms. So too do the shipwrights of the Haslanti League often honor the Sky Lord and his symbol can be found on many air boats. Gideon is more politician than anything and in this, he is a patient and cunning manipulator. He finds little qualms in engaging in acts of blackmail and larceny to achieve his goal of one day snatching Windia and the Haslanti League for himself and outcasting the spirits who already hold sway there.<br><br>Despite a cold, cunning, calculating mind however, he maintains a civil, if distant face with the rest of the local spirits and few suspect his aspirations for power run as high as they do. He manifests himself as a tall, arrow-thin Windian nobleman with wings of sky-blue and sharp, cold features. The Sky Lord favors glamorous robes of glossy blue and white.<br><br>
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| − | <b>Deep Soil Sleeper</b> is an elemental of great power and age. He is a figure of respect within his area of the north. Known for his wisdom and a patience which could endure a badgering that would set greater gods to violence, Deep Soil Sleeper is often turned to as a mediator and peace-maker in disputes between the local spirits. Many farmers around the cities of the north bare a crude clay totem of the elemental and it is considered good custom to offer it the first basket of any crop as thanks for good harvest. Deep Soil Sleeper has few aspirations. True to his name, the great elemental would rather be slumbering in the warm depths of the earth than attending to matters on the cold ground above.<br><br> Never the less, he does feel obliged towards the offers made to him by the little mortals and will occasionally turn up the rich, healthy soil deep bellow the earth to replace the rocky and poor soul near the surface. It is usually while he undergoes such tasks that the other local spirits manage to nab him and cart him away to deal with their squabbles or sit in on gathers of state. Deep Soil Sleeper often appears as a lumbering, shambling mass of sod and earth. Worms and other crawling things of the depths squirm and fall from his flesh and the scent around him is heavy with mildew and loam. Thick black roots form the course features of his rough face and a pair of stones which could be coal or black diamonds rest gleaming under his heavy brow.<br><br>
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| − | <b>Jugen of the Thirty Ways</b> is the youngest of the Seven, who came into being by the flourishing of the thaumathurge societies of the North, especifically of the industrial city of the Boil, a great laboratory of alchemists and enchanters. The god of the unique sciences of Thaumathurgy, and a very young spirit, Jungen of the Thirty Ways manifests in a manner which reflects his youthful nature. He appears as a dashingly handsome man with the pale skin of a scholar and fine, midnight-black hair. His face is often somber and serious, blue-glass spectacles perched upon his nose. The air of over-education and rank scent of youthful cockiness heavy about him and he forever seems to be looking down his nose at the rest of the world. <br><br>Jungen of the Thirty Ways floats, rather than walks, his every motion leaving blurring-blue after images that fade into the air. An odd touch of whim, he dresses much more like a Scavenger Lord than a scholar, with sturdy, serviceable clothes of dark color and fine quality. He bares a sword on one hip, a blade of rough black basalt and copper wire which can burst into green flame at a moments notice. At his other hip is chained a book which he simply calls the Secret Way. No one, not even his fellow gods, knows what lay within the pages of the book. Many suspect it to be simple diary as mortal thaumaturges are prone to keep or a book of sorcerous incantations. Only Jungen has ever peered within and he has sworn to never allow any save his most trusted of allies know what is written there. The brash young god has yet to find any he deems worthy of the knowledge, though he did once clobber a particularly loud alchemist over the head with it. The thaumaturge claimed the blow imparted great wisdom to him, but this is a highly debatable statement coming from one who would scream obscenities at a god.<br><br>
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| − | <b>Lowyn Innocent-Eyes</b>, most commonly known as Sweet Melody, is the patron goddess of erudite music – Namely, the goddess of orchestras and all instruments used in it, with an appreciation for organs, flutes and violins. She was once powerful on the Court of Singing Winds, the great patrons of music who walked on the far north... listening to the wind blow and making many more styles and melodies out of them. But after the Wyld claimed most of her former companions, breaking the Court of Singing Winds and all the power they once had. She took in some of their duties, and has little contacts with others who moved in to take her former colleagues’. Lowyn manifests as a beautiful, stately young women with bouncing curls of red hair dangling to her shoulders, the vibrant color complimenting her creamy skin and pale-peach eyes. She clads herself in a startlingly immodest gown woven from the love-songs of Whiteshield, it's broad sleeves, cupping brassier, and long train the only sections not styled into a fishers-net that flashes skin and dainty undergarment alike with cheerful indifference to propriety.<br><br>Lowyn is a musician of transcendant skill, but rarely, if ever, plays – she prefers to watch music, to inspire it. She is a muse of many songs, and has written many an unearthly beautiful composition. She searches for gifted mortals and delivers them, pushes their creativity and skill, and watches them bloom. A few of those become her favorites, becoming her servants, sampling her bed, and even, seeing her play. Her compositions heal mind and soul, can entrance and addict, and even paralyse a person in solid melody or kill with their beauty...<br><br>
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| − | <b>Falling Dusk</b> is the god of the strange place that is the Theater of Falling Dusk. Paradoxally, their most sympathetic, outspoken member – and spiritual leader of the Sages, the one all turn to inspiration – and the most secretive of them. The strange mount the fortress-sanctum is in. The Theather itself. The rivers. The region. They are all Falling Dusk, his domain. Falling Dusk appears as a handsome man, his whole flesh dark like night, glittering with a thousand fiery orange dots, like burning stars all over him. Clad in a white toga bond by black and white sashes with the symbol of destiny’s lotus, he seems at the same time ominous and friendly, clad in a simple, honest toga over what seems to be a skin of night jeweled with burning stars.<br><br>Falling Dusk is a warm, friendly god – able to comport himself to each and every personality on the Seven Sages. He knows Gideon sees him mostly as a tool, but knows he is better under the political’s wing, that they need the vast power the sky divinity possesses, and so smiles to that as his servants pour the tea and they make their plans. He gently humors Scythe of Winter and Wyrd Three-Sisters, talking to them in their cold and madness as warmly as he does with Sweet Melody, carrying the conversations and never being disrespectful or confrontational.<br><br> He seems much like Deep Soil Sleeper in his friendly ways, except that he manages to be dynamic enough to be, of all, closest to Jugen of the Thirty Ways – in fact the one to invite and sponsor the young Thaumathurge Divinity to the seventh tower of his palace. He trusts Jugen the most, as they understand each other, in a strange way, on personality, and in a great way, on the mystic, intricate nature of their magic.<br><br>Falling Dusk is the lord of his dominion, but he is unusually powerful for such a small dominion. His abilities allow him to weave Fate, and he has great power during the night, when the stars shine in the sky... all of the night-time creatures in his domain swear allegiance to him. He knows much of mysticism and magic, and has much to teach... as well as a few movements of martial prowess, moving with the grace of Fate itself. <br><br>Falling Dusk is the most limited, and the least resourceful of them all, at first glance – basically the keeper of their mutual meeting place. His personality shows much of why he became the center of their faith. Gideon and Scythe of Winter respect him more than they show due to most, and, despite their closeness, Jugen suspects there is more to the god of the strange mountain than meets the eye... and Wyrd... rambles. But yet, he is the greeter, the host, and the guiding light of the Seven Sages.
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| − | <b>Wyrd Three-Sisters</b> is the goddess of Shamanism. Or goddessess, as the case might be... one of the oldest of them all, Wyrd came into being when the first barbarians appeared. Goddess of shamanism, of chiminage with spirits, of the natural, intuitive magics and rituals perpetrated since even before the Usurpation. She embodies their trial and error, supersticions, their taboos and desires, life mixing with essence. The goddess of all that is emotional and strange, of those that dare go into the Wyld to see what will come and to change themselves. She protects them, and under ancient oaths helps them achieve their goals.<br><br>To the mortal eye, Wyrd is not, however, <i>a</i> goddess – she is a few <i>goddesses</i>! Wyrd appears as three – Maid, Mother and Crone – constantly arguing amongst themselves. Once a high-ranking helper of Luna, in tune with emotions, change, flesh and instincts... before the invasion of the Wyld. It hurt the frontiers, it hurt Wyrd. It broke the city where her sanctum used to be, consumed it within the chaos. She lost power, influence, sanity. Those pracitcing natural magic were mostly close to the Wyld, but she kept true to her domain, what damaged her sanity even more... as the ladies of destiny, appearing on vision quests on the Wyld, protecting those who follow the path of instinct and emotions.<br><br>Or trying to, anyway. Wyrd is so insane that she constantly bickers with herself – the Crone and her extreme objectivity, the Mother and her emotional support, the Maiden learning together with those they councel. She tries to act to calm the other two personalities, the Crone’s acidic harshness and the Mother’s emotional outbursts... with little success. Wyrd is a strange figure, always speaking in riddles or contradicting herself on bickering, and she is especially wary of Jugen, and his brand of magic what is the complete opposite of hers’... <br><br><br><br>
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| − | == Notes ==
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| − | Credit for Jugen of the Thirty Ways, Gideon Everclear and Deep Soil Sleeper goes to Grey. Yay Grey!^_^
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| − | Credit for Wyrd-Three-Sisters and for making me want to put Luggage in Exalted goes to Arcy!
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/GamesOfDivinity|Games of Divinity]]
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